Love Language Read online

  He was wearing dark jeans and a navy-blue shirt, and he liked the flash of color that the shimmery tie added. It reminded him of fish scales, iridescent with a faint rainbow.

  He thought for a moment and added a splash of eyeshadow and a touch of lip gloss. Nothing over the top, but enough that he thought Greg would appreciate it.

  It was a Friday night, and they were going, of all places, to the zoo. Apparently, there was some sort of winter light display and Greg had thought that it would appeal to his aesthetic interests.

  Which was just… sweet.

  Something had changed in Greg since that day in November. Marco couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he liked the change.

  They’d slowly done away with their every-Thursday-plus-weekends-on-special-occasions schedule and saw each other all the time now.

  Greg would text him and say, “I’m making tacos” or “have you ever gone skiing?” or “I had a long day,” and Marco would go wherever he wanted.

  They hadn’t put any words on it like boyfriend or even exclusive, though he was sure that Greg wasn’t seeing anybody else, and he certainly had no desire to.

  But he kept a toothbrush in Greg’s bathroom and a few changes of clothes in a duffle bag that stayed in the living room at Greg’s house. It wasn’t quite the same as a shelf in Greg’s dresser or a hanger in his closet, but it was a little bit more permanent. The beginnings of an agreement.

  He also had a key, which was secretly one of his prized possessions. Greg had gotten home late once, confused about what time they were meeting, and gone into fits of apology over Marco waiting for him in the cold. Even though he’d been sitting in his car with the heat running.

  He’d hastily thrust a key into his hands, lest it happen again, and now Marco had a key to Greg’s house on his keychain.

  Naturally, he’d given his apartment key to Greg in exchange, “just in case,” and he liked knowing it was there. Even though neither of them had needed to use them yet.

  Sometimes he felt like a lovesick teenager instead of an experienced Dom, but he tried to embrace the sappy. Daddies were allowed. Even if Greg might never call him that.

  The biggest change wasn’t their schedules, though, or the deodorant he kept in Greg’s medicine cabinet.

  Greg seemed lighter these days. More relaxed. When he thought about Richard, and Marco always noticed when he did, it was a nostalgic sorrow rather than a haunting one.

  He suspected that Greg was healing.

  Selfishly, he hoped that Greg might soon be ready for him. He still didn’t want to push, and he was happy with their journey, happy with the way things were going, but he couldn’t keep himself from envisioning more.

  He wanted Greg to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make Greg happy.

  And more and more often, Greg was happy, at least as far as he could tell. And he considered himself to be a bit of an expert on the subject.

  Marco felt satisfied with his appearance, so he checked again that he had everything he needed for the weekend.

  That was another thing that had him dancing to a rhythm that was all in his head.

  This weekend Greg had agreed to try sounding.

  Marco had been dying to try it with someone for years, and the intimacy of sharing it with Greg would be profound.

  He’d ordered all the supplies, double-checking recommendations and purchasing only surgical-grade materials. He’d seen a few live demos years ago, but he’d read up recently to make sure he got everything right.

  This weekend was going to be amazing.

  Only, when he reached Greg’s house, everything wasn’t amazing.

  Greg’s car was sitting in the drive and the bedroom lights were on, so he was pretty sure he was home. But when he rang the doorbell, he didn’t get an answer.

  Then he waited a few minutes and rang it again.

  It was possible that Greg was in the shower, but he’d texted ten minutes ago that he was running late because of traffic, and Greg hadn’t answered that, either.

  It wasn’t like Greg to both ignore his texts and be late. His house was small, and he’d seen Greg jerk to the sound of the doorbell even from the back porch.

  It was probably that the doorbell was broken, or Greg was using the bathroom, but he had the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was worse. He tried to push back images of Greg hurt or in danger, unable to come to the door.

  Steeling his nerves, he fished out his key ring and put Greg’s house key in the lock. When he’d rhapsodized about having Greg’s key, this hadn’t been what he’d envisioned.

  Inside, the living room was dark, so he flipped on the light.

  He didn’t even have to search to find Greg, folded over on the couch, staring off into space.

  “Greg?” he voiced his name, wanting to alert him to his presence.

  Greg looked at him, and then returned to that gaze in the middle ground. He looked devastated.

  Marco sat down beside him, one arm around his back.

  What happened? he signed with his other hand.

  My mother… And that was as far as he got.

  The swirl in Marco’s belly grew to a tornado. Is your mother sick? In the hospital?

  Greg slowly shook his head.

  Dammit. Damn, damn, damn. Greg didn’t deserve this. His whole family didn’t deserve this.

  Greg’s mother had been so alive, so warm and vivacious. He’d been down to see them once more with Greg in August, and often chatted with her for a few minutes when she FaceTimed Greg. She was a wonderful woman, an excellent mother.

  It felt like it was too soon for her.

  And it was horribly unfair to Greg, who’d just started to get over Richard’s death after three whole years. Marco was no psychologist, but this seemed like something that could set Greg back for a long time.

  Greg was still stiff in his arms, barely acknowledging his presence. He wished there was something he could do.

  Blankets or tea or just… something.

  He’d drive down for her funeral, of course. Be there for Greg and his family in whatever capacity they needed him. Run errands so they could grieve together or sit with Greg wherever he went.

  But that didn’t help him now.

  He ran a gentle hand up and down Greg’s back.

  And all at once, Greg collapsed to the floor. He just lurched out of his arms and slithered into a huddled position against Marco’s knee.

  Marco’s first instinct was to catch him, to pull him back up to the couch. But then Greg shifted again until he was unmistakably kneeling. It wasn’t his usual confident pose with shoulders back and head bowed, but a cramped, crouched thing, his head resting on the outside of Marco’s knee.

  It was a cry for help, if Marco had ever seen one.

  Marco grabbed a wide pillow from the end of the couch, wondering if Greg had kneeled on that same pillow before with Richard.

  Actually, the pillow didn’t matter. He was pretty sure that the position was familiar, a memory of something that felt calming when he did it with his Sir.

  Marco had promised to avoid doing anything that would evoke those memories, so he’d be crossing that line here.

  On the other hand, Greg couldn’t have been clearer about his needs if he’d made a neon sign.

  And maybe that distinction was meaningless anyway. He needed to take care of his boy.

  Marco settled the cushion on the floor in between his knees and coaxed Greg onto it.

  He moved slowly, like he was underwater. Once his knees were settled, he leaned back into Marco’s leg, pressing his nose into the seam of his jeans.

  Chest heaving, he leaned forward, snuffling and grinding until he had his face placed directly into Marco’s crotch.

  Marco wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was forlorn and needy, a clear desire for connection, or maybe something sexual to take Greg away from his thoughts.

  Greg nuzzled again against his packer. It was a little bit arousing and a l
ittle bit uncomfortable since the angle wasn’t right. Watching his boy so desperate for his comfort was a huge turn on, though.

  He started stroking Greg’s soft hair, and that seemed to be the right thing to do. Greg started to breathe more deeply, though he didn’t fully lose his stress and agitation. He also didn’t stop nuzzling.

  It took Marco a moment to put all the pieces together. Sometimes Doms would have their subs give them blowjobs, or maybe not quite blowjobs, just the opportunity to suck on them as a way to calm down. He had a suspicion that Greg had done this with Richard, and now he wanted the same thing from Marco.

  Marco wasn’t quite sure how it worked. To be honest, in the past he’d blown off listening to or thinking about a lot of things that seemed to be more realistic with a biological penis. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do it, and when he’d been doing most of his Dom training, he was so early in his gender transition that thinking about what cis men could do with their dicks had just pissed him off.

  Now, though, he wanted to give Greg what he needed. He moved to unzip his pants, hoping he was doing the right thing. He didn’t have the rod to insert into his packer, so it would stay soft. It still looked and felt pretty realistic, though, so hopefully that would help.

  Greg nuzzled at his fingers as he opened his fly, so it seemed like they were going in the right direction. He moved toward the front edge of the couch, but Greg didn’t seem to have any desire to move back.

  After shifting around entirely too many pieces of fabric, he had his cock out. He grabbed Greg by the hair, lifting his head so that they could see each other.

  Don’t suck. Just hold it in your mouth.

  Greg eagerly complied, jaw open and relaxed, lips barely closed around his shaft. Marco stroked his hair, trying not to get turned on by the gorgeous sight before him in the face of such tragedy.

  Greg’s eyes were red, that scratchy, dry red that he seemed to get when he ought to be crying but couldn’t. Marco wondered if Greg would want to be made to cry again. It seemed to have been good for him last time.

  Right now didn’t seem like the time for it, though.

  Marco had hoped that this would calm Greg down, but while his body had stilled, his shoulders were still tight, and his focus seemed off.

  He shook his head a little, as if uncomfortable. Or frustrated.

  Marco’s heart fell when he realized what was probably the problem. He wasn’t hard and he wasn’t going to get hard. Whatever psychological comfort this act offered, he probably couldn’t supply it. Greg probably expected his mouth to be full, maybe uncomfortably full.

  He ran his fingers through Greg’s hair again, then gripped it to angle him up. The rough action, as usual, bought Greg a little relaxation.

  Should I get the rod? Then I can get hard.

  Greg seemed to take a minute to figure out what he was talking about, but then shook his head vehemently, yanking against Marco’s fingers. In context, that was one of their safewords, but since Greg’s hands were free, he assumed this was just an emphatic answer to his question.

  What do you need?

  Closer. From the positioning of his hands, it looked like he wanted to be closer to Marco.

  But what the hell did that mean? Marco would gladly cuddle him in his lap, but Greg had chosen the position on the floor. Sometimes, he felt like they were speaking different languages with Greg’s kink background so different from his own.

  Show me, he finally said.

  Greg scrabbled at Marco’s jeans, trying to pull them down. He looked a little crazed, trying to get what he needed when Marco couldn’t figure it out.

  Marco shifted and eased his jeans down to his ankles. But Greg was still pulling at the band of his underwear, trying to tug them off. Greg’s face was pressed into the crease of his thigh, nuzzling at him as though trying to get, well, closer.

  Marco grabbed his wrists, held them for a moment to clarify his point, and then let them go so that they could communicate. What do you need?

  You. Closer. Please.

  Greg looked anguished. And Marco felt trapped. He’d never actually gotten around to being naked in front of Greg.

  It wasn’t that he was totally opposed to it. Some part of him even wanted it. He liked the idea of Greg going down on him, as long as Greg was actually interested.

  But he’d always been waiting until their relationship was a bit more established, for some unknown point of certainty that never materialized. It was always so easy to dive into a scene without dealing with all that awkwardness.

  As a Dom, he often took his pleasure in seeing his sub’s pleasure, and he could get off in a number of ways without ever removing his packer and two layers of underwear.

  He also didn’t want to push Greg.

  No, that was bullshit. He was just scared.

  And, he realized with growing dismay, holding a lot of himself back. After asking Greg to open himself to him completely, he’d been sitting on the sidelines when it came to addressing his own demons.

  He knew he could probably find some other way to calm Greg down. He was a Dom with years of experience, after all, and this wasn’t the only way to have a connection and let Greg’s mind go blank.

  But now that he’d realized what he was doing, he wanted to sacrifice a bit of himself for Greg. Show that he could be there for him in whatever way he needed. Make a show of trust for all the trust that Greg had given him in turn.

  He pulled down both layers of underwear together, taking the packer with them, and then pushed everything off his lower legs with his feet. He felt naked in more ways than just physically.

  Greg nuzzled against his knee, then his thigh, and then he was right there. Marco gripped his head, directing him. Some parts of his body were not available, to anyone at any time, and he could only hope that Greg would follow his lead and not try to go where he hadn’t been given permission.

  He felt Greg’s lips on his smaller, biological penis. He licked carefully along it once, while Marco sat in anxious tension.

  And then his lips closed gently around it. Not licking, not sucking. Just holding it. In his mouth.

  Marco ran shaky fingers through Greg’s hair, watching him slowly relax.

  Great fuck, that felt amazing.

  The last time anyone had touched him there, he’d been uncomfortable for an entirely different reason, distancing himself from the body he felt trapped in. But it was already well-established that Greg saw him as all man.

  He was still feeling a bit vulnerable, and it was going to take him awhile to process this physically and emotionally. The fact that it was happening while Greg was dealing with his own grief and past trauma didn’t help.

  But this was… God, it was good. His boy, on his knees, with his hard cock in his mouth. And it was so gratifying, being able to give Greg what he needed like this.

  Greg’s shoulders were down, his eyes gently closed. Traces of sorrow tugged at the wrinkles around his eyes, but what Marco could see of the rest of his face was serene.

  Was this what “closer” meant?

  Marco had thought that Greg couldn’t settle because he was lacking some physical requirement, something to do with the sensory experience of having a hard cock filling his mouth.

  But apparently, he meant that the silicon felt like a barrier between them. Which in a way it was, as much as it felt like an extension of Marco’s body at other times.

  Greg sought him out for comfort, and he was providing it. More importantly, he was providing it despite the body that he had.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. Greg wanted to be close, and maybe his body just didn’t make a difference.

  Or maybe… Greg just wanted to be closer.

  He wanted to please his Dom by serving him, but he needed to be skin-to-skin, knowing that Marco could feel him.

  Marco’s discomfort started to fade as he gave way to the wonder of what they were doing. He stroked Greg’s hair, rested soft hands on his shoulders.

 
; It was, as Greg had said, close like this, both of them honest and vulnerable together.

  And, good God, was it arousing.

  Was that appropriate right now? Greg had just heard that his mother had died, and Marco was thinking about sex.

  On the other hand, Greg had just heard that his mother had died, and his first response had been to dive for Marco’s cock. So…

  Did that mean that it was OK?

  He wondered how cis guys did this. Because he’d seen it happen before. Doms casually holding conversations while their subs mouthed their cocks, as if nothing were going on. Was that calm disinterest just an elaborate act? It had to be.

  And how had Marco spent so many years as a Dom without figuring it out?

  Regardless of what Marco’s brain told him, his body was saying something very different. Greg’s mouth was soft and warm and wet. And so very willing.

  He was pretty sure that if he told Greg to suck him off right now, he would gladly do so. He let that thought drift through his head.

  If felt… kind of empowering, actually. He liked the idea that Greg might want to get him off like this, that he would enjoy it, too.

  He shifted a little, trying to contain his arousal and dissipate the sensation. It only made Greg lean in closer, a little shiver running through his torso. He felt a gentle suckling sensation on his cock, as though Greg couldn’t help himself before he remembered to hold still.

  God, this boy. He wondered again if Greg had any idea of the power that he held in his hands.

  Sometimes, Greg absolutely destroyed him. But right now, it felt like he was being stitched back together, too.

  He tugged at Greg’s hair, gathering his attention without pulling him off.

  You want to suck me? Get me off?

  Greg looked at him with hungry eyes, his expression saying that he knew how significant this was. Please.

  Go ahead.

  That was all the invitation Greg needed. He explored with his tongue, laving along Marco’s length, circling and gliding. He sucked with furious pressure, experimenting with a hint of teeth, a slow lick around the tip. His breaths came in frantic gasps, the warm puffs adding to the intensity.